Bumble
by FreeKiwi
Summary: Kairi told Sora to go see a doctor, or it would get worse. But the scratching and banging at his closet door? Well, Sora's convinced it's a little more than early psychosis.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters in this story. At all.

_**Warning:**_ Shounen-ai, homosexual relationships, etc, etc.

**Author's Note:** Time for another one shot, kiddies!  
Inspired by the lyrics from a tUB rING song which will appear in this story.  
I do not own the lyrics.  
They are not mine.  
They belong to tUB rING.

That is all.

* * *

Bumble

•••

•••

_By: Freekiwi_

You know how you'd get your mom or dad to check your room for monsters before you went to sleep every night? And they would never, ever look in your closet because they _knew_, of course, there wouldn't be a monster in there?

The rumbling in my closet started three or four nights ago. I won't lie, but Riku died a week ago and, hey, I'm not superstitious or anything, but that's a pretty huge coincidence that the rumbling in my closet started only a week after he died. And hey, I'm not over it. I'm not. I'm probably hearing things, but…

Do the words "take my hand" mean anything to you?

It's five in the morning and it sounds like there's something scratching – begging – to be let out of the closet. And I've got my bed positioned right smack across from it, so my eyes, of course, lock on the door and it's impossible to close my eyes. They're usually rimmed red. They're usually puffed. But it's even worse when my sleep is being fucked in the ass because of Riku.

…

And not in a way I particularly enjoy.

But it's five in the morning and the clawing at the closet door reminds me of a cat or a dog wanting to be let out. But I don't own pets, in fact, I hate most animals and Riku, despite his sometimes detest for anything that sucked up any sort of oxygen, was the one who cared about animals. After he's gone, you think I'd own a disgusting, molting, whiny animal?

Hardly.

I want to sleep. I do. I told Kairi and Axel and Roxas all about it and they all suggested, you know, therapy. But I don't think I'm crazy – I think I'm sad – but I don't think I'm crazy. I think therapy for me would be like telling a blind person to read a book. I'm just… I'm not therapy material. Riku was.

But I'm his opposite.

Do the words "when you shed your minds" mean anything to you?

I'm actually scared of closing my eyes and the fear I feel with the unknown in my closet scares me even more. I think it's Riku, in some form, hiding in my closet. I think, maybe, it's his spirit or, maybe, he's alive, escaped his casket, and is just waiting in my closet. I think, maybe, just maybe, it is my imagination and then I think maybe it's a zombie. But the fact that half of me really thinks it's Riku and I'm still _terrified_ of what's in that closet is what really gets me.

How can I be scared of something I loved?

Sometimes I wonder if what we had was shallow and if what anyone has is shallow. Because, face it, if you saw your loved one of fifteen years all decaying and rotted, you wouldn't, you know, hug them or something. You'd get rotting flesh on your clothes and that would be a shame.

If I saw Riku's skeleton, I'd wet my pants.

If I had to see his rotting corpse, I'd probably poop myself.

But if I saw him alive and well, happy and semi-smiling, smelling like sea salt and sand, looking tanned and pale all at once, I'd be on him so fast, we would look like one person that had been molded together like pieces from clay. Like something that exploded in a kiln and got stuck to something else.

Do the words "we'll be free" mean anything to you?

By the time the scratching stops – and that's the crazy thing, it stops when the sun rises and starts when the sun goes down – it's six AM and I've got places to go and things to do. If it weren't for my job – if it weren't for my oh-so-loving "go to therapy" friends – I would sleep at night and avoid my room during the night hours.

I bumble into the bathroom, glance in the mirror, and I realize I look like… well, I look like shit. Like I've been beaten up really bad in the face. Like, you know, I haven't slept, maybe? I look like God just yanked his knickers down and dumped me out from his butt. I look _that bad_ and I doubt I'll be able to even function for work.

What?

Yea, it's been a week since Riku died and yea… Yea, I'm at work.

I cried, okay? I'm not holding it in. I just hear routine is the best way to forget the absence of someone that has been with you since you were two and now you're twenty-eight and utterly alone in a big house, that isn't paid for, with your nonexistent something that scratches at your door.

Ever looked in your mirror and just wanted to scream?

Maybe rip your hair out?

Bash out your teeth with a chisel?

Maybe swallow some Advil and call it a day?

Yea, me too.

Do the words "come with me" mean anything to you?

I rub some toothpaste on my teeth, I run a comb through my hair, and I even manage to dress myself. But, hey, let's face it, a couple minutes after I put on my trousers, I'm glancing at my bed and I bumble over to it and I lay down. I lay down and I close my eyes and BAM – I'm out just like that.

* * *

"So…"

"So?"

It's one of those mornings, you know? One of those mornings when lying in bed is the ONLY right thing to do in order to successfully complete the day? Yea, it's one of those mornings and Riku is with me. Sexy, sexy Riku with his sexy muscles and his sexy body completely naked next to me.

Everything I've ever needed wrapped neatly in a present for me. Everything I ever could've dreamed of just dreamed up right in front of me. A wish I never wished for. A present I never asked for, but received anyway.

That's Riku.

Perfect, white-toothed Riku.

"So… you should blow me," and the way it rolls off his tongue just gives me absolute chills.

"I should?" a brow and I've got the blankets up and around my shoulders and Riku is just letting it all come out. He's not under the blankets at all. He's just… Well, he's sunning himself on our bed. Like a cat. But his white skin – his deceitfully tantalizing skin – is always, always white. It will never be tan.

Some people are just naturally Michael-Jacksonish.

…

And by that, I mean just light of skin.

"You should. I'll force your head down there if you don't move your ass," and I know that even though he's smiling, he will force me.

And it'll hurt.

But in a… "my GOD, that feels good" kind of hurt.

But I'm not in the mood for it, so I come up from under the blankets and I crawl towards his hips. I hate being ass-first to Riku. It's like sticking your feet in someone's vagina. It's just… no. You just don't do it.

So I turn myself and I grasp his cock which is half-hard and only seems to harden at my touch. The head slips between my lips and teeth and Riku makes a cute noise in his throat. He wets those perfectly round, plump lips and I slip down on him, pressing halfway and pulling back up and he breathes. Just one, quick breath and then he writhes because now his whole cock has been slipped down my throat.

* * *

I wake up screaming.

And not in the "my GOD YEEEEES" kind of way. In the "there's a zombie in front of me and it's grabbing my face" kind of way. The kind of screaming you only do if you're in danger or if something terrifying is occurring.

Whatever is grabbing me, I grab it's flesh and I rip and tear and by the time I'm finished, there's blood under my finger nails and it's on the floor and my bed and I realize that no… Riku's zombie hasn't gone to take me down with him, it's Roxas.

… And his cheeks are bleeding. In fact, I tore up his whole face and in a way, it's nice knowing someone will look just as shitty as I do.

"Sora!" Roxas is grasping his cheeks and he grabs a dirty shirt from the floor and presses it to the cuts on his face. "It's been three days! Where have you been?! Jesus…"

Three days?

I've been asleep for three days?

"I…" I start to explain that I was sleeping, but I fall short and I glance over at the closet. Complete silence, so I glance out the window and realize the sun is setting. For a moment – a fleeting moment – I want to beg and plead for Roxas to stay with me tonight because whatever in my closet is going to try and come out.

It must've been scratching for days.

But I'm still here.

You think Riku'd be smart enough to use the door handle to the closet, but I've been told zombies aren't the smartest. I hear vampires are pretty intelligent, but most people don't rise from the grave as vampires. In fact, I don't think vampires get buried at all.

"Hello? Sora!" Roxas waves his hand in my face. "What is with you?"

"I've been sleeping for three days, maybe?" I raise a brow and, normally, I wouldn't be so rude with him, but the hair on the back of my neck is rising and I don't know why, but I am so scared…

I am so terrified right now and I feel like cold fingers are rubbing down my back and touching me. I feel like hands are grabbing me. I feel like I'm being pulled and I reach for Roxas and it must all be in my head because I feel like I'm far away from him, but when I reach for him, he's only two inches.

And I grab his pants pocket.

"Sora…" the bleeding on his cheeks has dulled now and he stares at me like I'm a raccoon he's just hit with his car and there's zero he can do to save me. "Sora, come on… what's wrong?"

"The thing in my closet… I've been sleeping for three days. I… It hasn't come out to get me, Roxas…"

A sigh leaves his lips and he sits down on the bed next to me in a brother-to-brother sort of manner. "Did you ever consider, Sora, that maybe whatever is in your closet doesn't want you?"

Yea, right, okay.

"Then why would it be scratching at my door?"

And Roxas?

He shrugs.

I guess… thanks for being honest.

"Look, Sor, there's nothing scratching at your door. There's not. Kairi came last night at around ten when she got off work. Your door was unlocked and she got worried, so she ran around the house looking for you. When she saw you were asleep, she thought maybe you had just gotten some sleep and she heard no scratching. She even looked in the closet, Sor, and saw nothing."

I sit there with Roxas, his arm around my shoulder, and a smile on his lips. I sit there and I notice the sun is gone. It's night – it's completely dark and I want to cry. I want to curl up into the fetal position and pretend that I don't exist anymore because this isn't about missing Riku.

This is about something scary haunting my house.

* * *

It's been one day since I last saw Roxas. One day exactly, by the way, because I've been timing my time alone as a way to eat up time. Which, I guess, is kind of ironic.

Do the words "across the way" mean anything to you?

The sun is gone, I'm on my bed and I know what you and everyone else is thinking. Why don't you go and sleep on the couch or in another room? Why continue to sleep in the room with the scary closet? With something bumbling around in there?

Those words? The ones that might mean something to you?

I hear those moaned.

Muffled.

Behind the closet door.

I want to wet myself when I hear that broken, terrifying, crying voice behind that door. It's gotten now where the scratching sometimes turns to banging and the muffled words turn to screaming, yelling.

You have no idea how afraid I am to leave the room. When they say fear paralyzes you, don't think they're kidding. Fear is the worst kind of anything you can have your system.

It's out of fear I don't whip open that door.

It's out of straight fear I don't run out of this room afraid.

It's out of complete and utter fear I don't run away completely.

Don't ghouls follow you, anyway?

I've seen The Grudge 2.

It's exactly nine o'clock and I nearly jump out of my skin when there's a loud bang on my closet door. Bang, bang, bang, and I crawl under the blankets, ready to hide. Bang, bang, bang, and all I can think is that that isn't Riku in there. It's something evil, something bad. Something that isn't something I fell so deeply in love with. It's something I don't know how to control.

Something that makes me wish _I_ was dead.

Bang, bang, bang.

Do the words "I'll find a way" mean anything to you?

I'm clutching my blankets and sheets and the banging is louder and I swear it sounds closet than ever before. There's muffled yells behind the door and I'm trembling and my heart nearly stops when it all, just suddenly, ends.

And then I hear the wiggling of the handle on the closet door. The wiggling and jiggling of something stupid trying to figure out how to work such an intricate knob. I _know_ it's not Riku. Riku knew how to work a stupid door knob.

I'm scared, so scared, and I suddenly jump out of bed. I jump out of bed and I wing a picture of Riku and me at the door. I wing the frame and the glass and the photo and everything and it smashes, hard, against the closet door and that…

That makes me scream.

I run over to the wreckage and I grab the class and picture and the broken frame and I'm in such a frenzy, I rip the picture straight in two. I rip Riku and me completely apart and now the picture is half Riku and half Sora and I stare at the destruction I've caused.

…

I can't remake this photo.

I can't remake our wedding photo.

No one can replace something that's gone…

The tears in my eyes overflow and fall and I'm so mad – so extremely mad at what I've done, I wing open the closet door. I grab the handle and I rip it open and I feel so powerful right now that I feel like I can rip the door off the hinges.

And there's nothing there.

There's nothing there… No scratch marks on the door. No prints on the handle… No evidence of hard bangs or anything. I hear no screaming, no cries, no yells, and suddenly, really, very suddenly, I feel so fucking empty.

I feel the emptiest I have ever felt and I kneel on the ground, on the wreckage of our wedding photo, and I openly sob in my hands for what feels like an eternity.

I sob harder and harder and it's one of those cries that you know isn't going to stop until you are COMPLETELY cried out. Until there is no liquid left to even squeeze out of your eye sockets.

I'm kneeling on the broken glass, in front of the terrifying closet door, and I cry. And all at once, I realize that the scratching, the banging, and the yells? It wasn't a ghoul, a zombie, something waiting for me. It was the absence of Riku and my fear of being completely alone.

It's hard being alone in such a big world.

It's hard being alone when you grow so used to always having someone right by your side.

Every time I come home, I want so badly for Riku to be there.  
Every time I step out of the shower, I want so badly for Riku to be there.  
Every time I heard the banging and scratching and screams, I wanted so badly for Riku to be there.

But he's not.

And he never will be.

I stand and I turn to go to my bed, but I realize I hadn't opened the closet since Riku left and – here it comes, the insult to injury – all of his shit, all of it, is in here.

Every thing I packed up and away because that stupid asshole left me. He left me here to a life of the worst sort of loneliness. I was so pissed when he died. So angry and upset and I took everything, except our wedding photo, and packed it in this closet. It smells like sea salt and sand.

Do the words "just be sure" mean anything to you?

I reach out and grasp something from one of the shelves. A shirt – Riku's nasty beach shirt – that he wore nearly all summer. That he seldom took off unless it had to be washed.

A shirt that smells so much like him, I'm clutching it and crying and shaking so bad because I want so bad for it to be him and not just his fucking shirt. I want so bad to feel arms around me and I don't.

And it all comes to me at once like a punch in the gut:

Riku's arms will never be around me again.

I crawl into bed, shirt in hand, and I tuck myself away for a long sleep. I tuck myself away from the cruelties of the world and I go to a place where there's something better. Something that's no longer real, but something so much better.

* * *

I'm sitting with Riku.

If you must know, it's three weeks before he died in that stupid car accident. Three weeks before he was thrown through his windshield, stood up, and then was hit by an on-coming car. Three weeks before my whole life went to a completely loveless existence.

He's holding my hand. He's holding it in a way that I know he means it. He's got it so tight in his palm and I feel so little next to him. We're curled together on the beach, on a blanket, at sunset. A really cheesy romantic kind of thing, you know? But it's so nice and warm, I just…

Well, I like cheesy romances, sue me.

"Sora?"

I feel his breath on my ear and it is absolutely the best feeling.

"Yea?"

"When you leave this land, just be sure to take my hand across the way, and come with me. When you shed your mind and leave your vessel far behind, I'll find a way and we'll be free."

I raise a brow and I stare up at Riku who's gazing, off-focused, into the sunset and the calm sea. He's got a solemn look to his face and I want to ask what he means. Take his hand?

Why wouldn't I?

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yes! A story written from Sora's point of view. This one got me, guys. We always feel how Riku feels when he loses Sora and I wanted to change that. And in some way, Sora almost deals the same as Riku, but I think it's a lot more painful for someone as soft as Sora.


End file.
